


In Your Arms

by Wxlves



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Minor Character Death, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-05-20 13:23:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19377595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wxlves/pseuds/Wxlves
Summary: An unfamiliar figure stood in the doorway to the cafeteria, shifting uncomfortably at the four hundred pairs of eyes on him. The only first thing Bucky noticed was the sheer size of him. He probably cleared six feet with an inch or two to spare and his body was packed with solidly toned muscle. As Bucky’s eyes made their way up to his face his jaw dropped.“No fucking way,” he hissed under his breath. Because his body may have changed drastically but that was the same face. Steve.[Aka a Stucky 80’s high school AU][previously titled New Kid]





	1. New In Town

“Did you know there’s supposed to be a new kid coming soon?”

Bucky’s ears tuned in to the whispers of the girls behind him. He went to a small school in a small town, so anything as insignificant as a new person at school was exciting news. 

“Well  _ I  _ heard that he used to live here and is moving back. I still wouldn’t know him though.” That was from Caroline, who had moved into town two years ago. 

“I don’t know why someone would come back to this place, it’s not like there’s ever anything going on.” 

Bucky stifled a laugh around his sandwich. She had a point. The girls’ talk turned to mindless chatter and he tuned back out of their conversation.

•

Bucky accidentally slept through his alarm, missing his first period class. By the time he rushed in, ten minutes late to second period, the entire class was buzzing with the news. New Guy was apparently in school today. Due to the nature of gossip, everybody had different information about who he was and what he was like, but Bucky listened with interest. The one thing everyone agreed on ー he was  _ hot _ . 

“I bet he has a six pack.” Bucky nearly groaned out loud at that. The last thing this school needed was another all-brawn no-brains football jock who liked to act like he owned the place. Goddamn Brock Rumlow clones. 

Second and third periods passed uneventfully and Bucky made his way to the cafeteria for lunch, settling into his usual corner in the back and pulling out a thermos. A few minutes into lunch the usual clamor died down suddenly and Bucky turned to see what had caused it. An unfamiliar figure stood in the doorway to the cafeteria, shifting uncomfortably at the four hundred pairs of eyes on him. The first thing Bucky noticed was the sheer size of him. He probably cleared six feet with an inch or two to spare and his body was packed with solidly toned muscle. As Bucky’s eyes made their way up to his face his jaw dropped. 

“No fucking way,” he hissed under his breath. Because his body may have changed drastically but that was the same face. The same delicate cheekbones, the same soft mouth, the same strong line of his nose that before had seemed too big for his face. It was the same blue eyes with those ridiculously long lashes that shadowed his cheeks. 

Before Bucky could stop himself he was on his feet. Practically sprinting across the cafeteria, his fast-moving form drew eyes, including Steve’s. He could see the moment Steve registered who it was running at breakneck speed towards him as his face split into a grin. Bucky heard an  _ oomph  _ as they collided, nearly tackling Steve. “Jerk,” Steve muttered into his ear.

“Punk,” Bucky shot back, pulling away from Steve. Their audience had apparently decided that they had better things to do than watch their reunion, there were no longer eyes trained on them from all sides. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were coming back?”

Steve’s smile was sheepish. “I tried, Buck. Your number had changed.” Bucky cursed, remembering when they’d had to get a new phone after mice chewed the wires of the old one. Phone company had insisted they get a new number with the new landline for no good reason. “We gonna stand here all day or…?” 

Bucky clapped Steve’s back as he lead him towards the table he’d been sitting at. “I can see your smart mouth hasn’t changed a bit. Still gettin’ into fights with every asshole you meet?”

Steve shrugged his shoulders, a crooked smile settling onto one side of his mouth. “Guess I am, yeah. Now I actually win some of ’em though.”

Bucky glanced pointedly at Steve’s biceps where his t-shirt strained. “With arms like that, I sure hope you do.” Steve’s neck and ears flushed a deep red, a sure sign that he was embarrassed. Some things never change, Bucky thought to himself. Waving away the expression on Steve’s face the conversation turned to more serious issues. “How’s your Ma been doing?”

Years ago, just weeks after Steve’s thirteenth birthday, he’d been forced to move out of town with his Ma. She’d gotten sick and their small, rural-midwestern town didn’t have a hospital that could figure out what was wrong with her. They had moved suddenly and Steve had all but dropped off the map as he took care of her. His dad had died before he was born, leaving Steve the only one who could look after his Ma. If Steve was back in town that was either good news or very, very bad news. 

Steve’s throat bobbed as he swallowed nervously. “It was touch-and-go for a while but she’s gotten better. Still not back at one hundred percent but she can work sometimes, and she’s well enough that she could come back here even with the shitty hospital. They never figured out  _ what _ the health issues were, though, only how to help them.” 

Bucky frowned slightly. “I’m sorry, Steve.”

Steve just shrugged once again, jaw tensing. “Don’t be. Did you make her sick?”

“I meant I’m sorry you both have to go through that,” Bucky sighed. “You don’t have to resist when people offer condolences or try to help.” He grinned, nudging Steve with his elbow. “I know you’re Irish and have to repress your emotions all the time but-” 

Scoffing, Steve rolled his eyes. “Really, Buck? Irish?”

“Well yeah, Irish people are stubborn. Why else would they have inhabited a cold, wet island and stayed there for hundreds of years?” Shaking his head, Steve reached for his lunch. They ate companionably in silence for a moment, and Bucky almost felt as though nothing had changed, no time had passed. Eventually, the question that had been bugging Bucky since Steve walked in finally flew from his mouth without permission. “What the hell happened to you?”

Steve didn’t have an answer. “Puberty, I guess?”

“No, Steve. What happened to me was puberty. You went from an underweight, chronically-ill little shit to a much larger, healthier little shit.”

“I’m still not as healthy as I look. I’ve got asthma, I just have an inhaler for that now. My heart still isn’t strong enough to handle intense cardio but I can do shorter runs or weightlifting. My spine  _ has  _ mostly straightened out, partially thanks to exercises a doctor told me to do, but deadlifting is off the table. It’s not like you haven’t changed either, Buck,” he added with a pointed glance at Bucky.

He’d never been small, but since Steve had last seen him he’d put on muscle, the last of his baby fat melting away. His hair was longer too, and the ends brushed his shoulders when it wasn’t tied up in a knot at the nape of his neck. Steve reached behind him and tugged on the ends of his hair, sticking out slightly. As his fingers brushed the back of Bucky’s neck so many things came crashing back into focus, things he he’d forgotten in the intervening years. How the little punk who was always getting fights and mouthing off had wormed his way into Bucky’s heart and lodged there in a way that was…concerning. He’d always shook off those feelings and once Steve was gone, regardless of the hole that left in his chest, it was even easier to ignore.   
  


•

Arriving at his locker, Bucky heaved a sigh. Not for the first time, it was scrawled with graffiti that he hadn’t put there. Ugly words written in ugly handwriting, thick black marker that was always reported to teachers, but never acted on. The insult of the week was “fag,” one of Rumlow’s favorites. “You like it, Barnes?” 

Speak of the devil. Bucky turned towards the gravelly voice behind him with a sharp retort on his tongue, but before he could get a word out a voice rang out from behind Brock. “I like it, it’s really creative. I’m actually impressed with your spelling abilities, you managed a whole three letters.”

_ Jesus, Steve _ . Always getting into fights that weren’t his, with his fists following his fat mouth. “Next time, for a better insult try writing out the whole word. Faggot. Unless that’s too hard to spell.” Rumlow turned to Steve with a sneer. “What’s it to you, new boy? Why do you care?”

Steve planted his body between Bucky and Rumlow. Never mind that he was barely larger than Bucky. “I care because that’s my friend you’re insulting and, honestly, it’s not an  _ insult _ to be gay.”

“And you’re just saying that ’cause you  _ are _ a fucking queer.”

The first rule of dealing with Brock was just...don’t. Ignore his jabs and let him have his graffiti. However, that certainly wasn’t Steve’s style, it never had been and Bucky knew he wouldn’t start now. Bucky could see the instant the usual dumbass decision passed through Steve’s brain, he could see the gears turning as he drew himself up to his full height and leaned right into Rumlow’s space. “So what if I am?”

_ Jesus  _ fucking _ Christ, Steve.  _

Rumlow’s lip curled into a sneer that Steve matched. “Then you’re dead, Rogers.”

“I’d like to see you try, Rum-”

“Alright, alright, alright. You two, separate.” Erskine, the Advanced Chemistry teacher, placed a hand on Steve’s chest, gently pushing him backwards. God knows Steve was strong as a bull, a push like that couldn’t budge him if he didn’t want to move, but he took a step back anyways. “I don’t feel like filing reports with the principle so if everyone can agree to be civil, we can all move along with our day.”

Neither Steve nor Brock responded but Bucky nodded enthusiastically. “No problems here, Doctor.” Grabbing Steve by the arm he pulled, tugging Steve along behind him as he rushed down the hall. His locker could wait, the first priority was removing Steve from the situation. He was a righteously temperamental idiot who would fight anyone over what he considered morally right or wrong. Heaving open the door to the bathroom he towed Steve along with him. 

Blocking Steve’s exit (and his access to Rumlow), Bucky crossed his arms over his chest. “What was that, Steve? You don’t want to be getting detention for fighting your second week back.”

Steve huffed, blue eyes burning through Bucky and the door behind him. “Why didn’t you tell me he gives you shit all the time?”

“Because I knew you’d pull some shit like this, Steve!” Bucky was yelling now, too angry to care about people listening from the hallway. “Even when you weighed a hundred pounds soaking wet and couldn’t breathe right you still tried to fight for me, and I’d end up finishing your fights. Now you’re bigger than Hulk Hogan and can actually do damage and I don’t feel like bailing your ass out of trouble. I don’t need you to fight my battles.”

Steve’s lips were pressed into a thin, white line even as hurt flickered in his eyes. “He calls you-”

“I don’t care what he calls me,” Bucky cut in. “Fag is Rumlow’s favorite word and if anyone at this school hasn’t been on the receiving end of his trash attitude, I’d be  _ shocked _ .” 

Steve’s jaw set in that stubborn way it always had as he refused to meet Bucky’s eyes. “I need to get to class.”

Bucky knew a dismissal when he heard it. Turning aside to let Steve by, he resolved to fix this before the week was out. First, they both needed a chance to cool their tempers and think.


	2. End of the Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mama Mia! Here we go again!

It was Friday afternoon, three days after their argument, when Bucky finally cornered Steve at his locker. Steve had successfully avoided him for three days and now Bucky was determined to talk. He’d even stopped by Steve’s old apartment that they’d moved back into but nobody answered the door, and old Mrs. Havanski told him they’d left an hour before. 

“Steve.” His voice came out sharper than he’d meant it to but it didn’t matter, when Steve turned, the words died on his tongue. A bruise bloomed across his cheekbone and his lower lip was swollen and cut. “What the hell happened to you?” Reaching out a hand, Bucky traced the bruising on Steve’s face. “Was this why you were avoiding me? Did Rumlow do this?”

Steve shook his head. “Nah, that one was Alex Pierce.” Raising the hem of his shirt he showed off the purple covering his ribs. “This was Rumlow.”

Bucky’s guilt was crushing. Steve had gotten these bruises trying to defend  _ him. _  “I swear I’ll kill them next time I see them, those assholes. They-”

“Hey, Buck,” Steve cut in with a glance around the hallway. “We can talk about this later. Remember the old ’64 pickup truck my Ma always drove?”

“The one that your dad had before he died? Why, you still have it?”

Steve laughed a little then winced. “She doesn’t drive it anymore but I’ve got it now. The thing’s just over twenty years old but still going strong. I’ll pick you up at your place at five, and we can go to the old Phillips farm, our usual spot.”

The farm had been abandoned for years when Phillips, a Colonel in the army, returned from Vietnam. He’d decided he was done with war, retired, and bought the land, reviving the farm. He’d died of a heart attack some years later and his family still held the land, but none of them cared for it and it was essentially becoming wilderness as vines overtook the old barn and crop fields. When they were younger they’d walked out here, about a mile out of town down a dirt road. Now, they rattled along in Steve’s old pickup, bouncing in the deep ruts. 

Pulling off the road and into the middle of a long-overgrown corn field, Steve put the truck in park and pulled out a blanket from the backseat. He hopped from the driver’s cab and walked around to the bed of the truck, laying the blanket down and stretching out on it. Bucky lay next to him and together they silently watched the stars, Bucky mentally picking Orion’s Belt out of the mess of bright pinpricks scattering the sky. 

It was Bucky who finally broke the silence. “I wish you hadn’t gotten hurt on my behalf, Steve.” Steve sighed but didn’t respond. “They beat you because you told Brock you were gay, didn’t they?”

Steve’s face was invisible in the dark but Bucky could imagine the wry grin that went along with the sharp edge of humor in his voice. “Judging by the, ah,  _ choice  _ words they were shouting, yeah.”

“Why did you do it Steve? Was it really worth it just to prove a point to Brock?”

Once again Steve didn’t answer but Bucky senses something different in this silence, like the pause when you open your mouth but the words get stuck behind your lips. When he did speak, there was a seldom-heard hesitance in his tone. “What if- what if it wasn’t? To prove a point, I mean.”

Bucky turned to face Steve, barely able to see the outline of his body in the dark. His heart was thundering in his chest but before he could say anything Steve hurriedly continued. “I know how everyone says it’s not right but I can’t  _ change _ it. At church they say homosexuality is okay as long as you don’t act on it which is…it’s bullshit. Then there’s people like Rumlow and Pierce who are just assholes anyways.” His voice softened as he spoke. “Most people probably think I was just being stubborn when I told Rumlow I was gay, but I don’t know who I can actually trust to tell.” There was a question in his voice that Bucky hated to hear, hated to think that there was any lack of trust between them. He hated that Steve didn’t think Bucky would love him unconditionally. 

“Steve, if you came to me with a dead body and bloodstains on your hands I’d help bury it first and ask questions later.” Steve huffed a laugh, wincing around his bruised ribs, and Bucky hurried to continue before he lost his nerve. “Besides, I’m no hypocrite.” A shuffling noise followed this declaration as Steve turned onto his side to face Bucky. A short,  _ huh _ , that Bucky couldn’t (didn’t want to) interpret was his only response. 

There was another long pause, filled only by the cicadas chirping from the fields around them. “Can I tell you something else? It was what I wanted to tell you in the first place when we came out here.”

Bucky swallowed audibly, unsure of where this would go. “Yeah, shoot.”

“I lied before. About why we came back.” Steve took a shaky breath as worry crept into Bucky’s heart. “The doctors said they didn’t really know the cause of Ma’s health issues and there wasn’t much more they could do for her. She wanted to come and be back home, not just in a hospital for-” Steve’s voice broke then, throat closing around his words. Bucky still couldn’t see him well in the darkness, couldn’t see the pain he knew sat deep in Steve’s eyes. Clearing his throat, Steve managed to finish in a whisper, “...for her last few months.”

Steve hadn’t truly lost his father; dead before he was born, from Steve’s point of view he’d simply never had one. Sarah had raised him alone, always so warm and kind and good. Steve had inherited her heart, although his fierce temper had to have been from his dad, Sarah hadn’t once raised her hand or her voice to either of them, even when Bucky dragged Steve into trouble as kids. 

Steve loved his Ma with all his heart and then some, she was his only parent, the sole provider of shelter, food, and unconditional love in his life until Bucky had come along. Even then, Steve loved his Ma more than he loved Bucky and Bucky didn’t fault him for that one bit. Bucky had always had a fraught relationship with his mother, and though he loved her, he didn’t get the same sense of unfailing, unconditional love that his sisters or Steve gave him. He couldn’t imagine, couldn’t even come close to imagining the hurt Steve was feeling. He couldn’t imagine keeping something so painful so close to one’s heart, either. 

Not knowing what he could possibly say, Bucky just reached out, pulling Steve against him. The truck bed was hard, barely softened by the blankets beneath him, but Steve tucked in close, head under his chin and hands gripping fistfuls of Bucky’s shirt, was a gentle warmth. At first Steve was silent, cradled into Bucky’s body, but he eventually felt his shoulders begin to shake. Before long Steve was sobbing, Bucky running his fingers through feather-soft hair as words continued to fail him. The usual “it’ll be alright” was too blatant a lie for Bucky to tell Steve, he never could lie to him, not even about the little things. 

The bare sliver of the crescent moon was high in the night sky by the time Steve fell asleep, still clutching Bucky’s shirt. Looking down at Steve’s sleeping form, Bucky pressed a kiss to his forehead, not even realizing he’d done it until he saw him stir slightly.  Bucky let Steve sleep until near midnight, when he finally pried Steve’s hands off himself and gently shook him awake. 

“C’mon Stevie, I can’t carry you anymore.”

Even at the age of thirteen, before he’d put on any muscle, Bucky had been able to carry Steve with little problem, that’s how underweight he was. Now, Bucky couldn’t hope to lift one arm, much less his sleeping, dead-weight body. 

“ ’m sorry, Buck,” Steve’s voice rasped from where he’d rolled away from Bucky, sitting up. 

“Don’t apologize. And Steve?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve got me. You’ve always got me.”

“Until the end of the line?”

“End of the line, Stevie.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: *ends Ch1 with light angst* lmao sorry to do that to you guys, next chapter will be better!  
> Also me: *ends Ch2 with hardcore angst*
> 
> I am...so sorry for this chapter. 
> 
> Angsty coming-out scenes? Clearly I have A Brand (TM)


	3. Doesn’t Change Anything

Steve hissed, “keep quiet,” at Bucky for the third time in as many minutes as Bucky tripped on the stairs leading up the Rogers’ apartment. 

“You’re just cranky ’cause you’re soooobeerrr,” he sing-songed in response. “Not my fault you’re bad at getting drunk.”

“And it’s not my fault you’re a lightweight,” Steve huffed in response. “Besides, you  _ know _ Mr. Changretta will kill me if we wake him up.”

“He might really kill you, he owns a lot of guns.” In a hushed voice Bucky added, “I swear he’s in the mafia.”

Steve sighed yet again as they finally reached his landing. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Buck.” Fumbling with the front door, Steve finally turned the key in the old, stubborn lock and pushed it open, flicking on the lights for Bucky’s sake. The kitchen light was already on, Sarah sitting at the scratched wooden table with a mug of tea held between her hands. Dark blue veins stood out from pale skin and her hair was thinning but poor health could never take the fierce gleam from her eyes. 

Bucky nodded to her, doing his best to act sober. “Mrs. Rogers.” 

Her lips spread in a smile. “Hello, James. You boys look like you had a good night.”

Bucky opened his mouth to reply but Steve clapped his hand over his lips before he could say anything. “You’re done talking for tonight.” Turning to his mother he shrugged. “Hey, Ma. You didn’t have to wait up for us.”

“I couldn’t sleep anyways, it’s alright.” Even drunk, Bucky noticed the slight worry that flickered in Steve’s eyes. Sarah saw it too and chuckled. “I’m okay. I put the spare mattress in your room, Steve, so you can both sleep there.”

Steve let go of Bucky long enough to kiss her on the cheek and give a quick, one-armed hug. “G’night, Ma.” As soon as he could, Steve reached back and steadied Bucky’s swaying form again. 

“Good night, Steve. See you tomorrow James.”

Bucky saluted her before turning and heading towards the bedrooms, Steve keeping a watchful eye when he stumbled slightly. “Don’t stay up too late,” she called after them. 

They stood shoulder to shoulder in the tiny bathroom as they brushed their teeth, the cold water and sharp mint toothpaste sobering Bucky slightly. Catching Steve’s eyes in their reflections he quirked his lips in a small smile, Steve responding with a grin so wide that sudsy saliva spilled from the corners of his mouth. Catching himself, he quickly wiped his face with his sleeve, ducking his head as Bucky laughed at him. He couldn’t do anything halfway, not even smile. 

Back in Steve’s room, Bucky settled on the mattress on the floor while Steve flopped into his own bed. After a moment of silence Steve swung his legs over the side of his bed and peered down at Bucky. “This is ridiculous, you don’t have to stay on the floor.”

“Steve, I’m not taking your bed.”

“I’m not saying we switch beds, just share. This mattress is big enough.”

“I’m still not taking your bed space. We’re both a lot bigger than we used to be.”

“Fine.” Bucky thought Steve had given up until he saw his silhouette, backed by the street lights filtering through the blinds, stand. He carefully stepped over towards Bucky’s mattress on the floor, settling in next to him after pushing Bucky’s legs over with a small huff. 

“I’m not giving you blankets,” Bucky scolded, pulling them tighter around his body. 

Steve just reached up and pulled the top sheet off his bed, nearly elbowing Bucky in the process. 

“Fucking watch it,” Bucky hissed, smiling even though he knew Steve couldn’t see him. 

The laughter in Steve’s voice was easily heard. “Sorry.” With more rustling noises and some movement that shifted the mattress under his bulk, Steve finally settled in, nearly nose to nose with Bucky.

Bucky ignored the butterflies that were attempting to burst through his stomach wall and smirked at Steve. “Comfortable?”

“Very.” 

Bucky wasn’t sure if he imagined it but he could have sworn Steve’s eyes flickered down to his lips. Blinking away the idea he just let his eyes close, determined to sleep even if Steve’s nearness was enough to keep him up all night. 

Not a minute later he heard a quiet, “Buck?”

Bucky opened his eyes to find Steve watching him with some intent. “Yeah?”

Before he could say anything else, Steve’s lips were on his. His entire body went stiff as a board, but after the initial surprise he just  _ melted.  _ Steve’s mouth tasted like mint toothpaste and a hint of cheap vodka, a combination that probably wasn’t very great but just now, there was nothing else Bucky could imagine. 

Without thinking his hand went to the back of Steve’s neck, pulling him closer as Steve’s lips parted further. When he felt fingers brush at his hipbones he pulled back with a start, eyes wide. They stared at each other for a moment, noses an inch apart, neither of them moving. Steve’s mouth was open slightly as though surprised at himself. 

Bucky spoke first. “So uhh, should we talk about…about what this means or…

With a breathy laugh Steve shook his head. “How about later?”

“Yeah…” 

Bucky found himself trailing off once again, focused less on what he was saying and more on Steve’s blue-green eyes. His gaze flickering to Steve’s lips, Steve caught the glance and a small smile curled the corners of his mouth. 

“...Later,” he managed to whisper before they were kissing once again. This time Steve’s hand found its way fully under Bucky’s shirt before he pulled back again, warning, “if we start going there-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve quickly agreed, pulling back. 

They both fell silent for a little while before Bucky whispered, “Steve,” at the dark figure laying next to him. 

“Hmm?”

“Does this have to change anything? These feelings…for me at least, they aren’t new. We’ll still spend all our time together, still get dinner and go to movies and stay over at each other’s houses.”

“For me, these feelings are about seven years old. Remember the time I had the flu real bad and the doctors weren’t sure I’d make it? I woke up after the worst was over and you were passed out next to my hospital bed in one of those uncomfortable chairs. Nurse who came in said you’d been there for almost twenty-four hours straight. You looked so peaceful asleep and the way you’d stuck with me...hell, I’m shocked I didn’t plant one on you right then and there.”

Reaching out a hand to grasp one of Steve’s, Bucky chuckled. “Imagine where we’d be if you had.”

“Imagine the poor nurse walking in on that.”

—

Bucky reached up a hand in a rude gesture at the light that streamed through the window, aggravating his already-pounding headache. “I’m never drinking alcohol again,” he hissed, slapping Steve’s shoulder when the blonde just sighed and buried his face back in his pillow. 

Steve, for his part, was perfectly content to ignore Bucky. It was too early to be up on a Saturday and upon waking, he’d found Bucky curled into him, their tangled legs a reminder of what happened last night. Content in that position, he refused to move. Clearly, Bucky had other plans. 

“Steve, get up. It’s ten thirty and I’m getting hungry.”

“I thought you were hungover.”

“I am hungover. Hungover and hungry. Don’t test me now, Stevie.”

“Fine.” Rolling sideways Steve half-fell off the mattress, pulling on jeans and a t-shirt from his floor. Eyesight still blurry from sleep, he stepped into the kitchen to find a note from his Ma. 

_ Steve, _

_ I’ve gone to run some errands, be back around 12. Please eat  _ something  _ healthy for breakfast.  _

_ <3 _

Ignoring her request he pulled the Lucky Charms from the shelf and poured two bowls. Sitting across from Bucky he ate it all together like a normal person, unlike Bucky who picked around the marshmallows and ate all the cereal (“dog food” as he called it) first.

Catching his eye, Bucky shrugged. “What? I’m savin’ the best for last.” Steve just shook his head, leaning across the table to capture Bucky’s lips in a quick kiss. The action, so lovingly domestic, caught him off guard, a grin splitting Bucky’s face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a little while to get up here, I was procrastinating on writing it because I’m horrible like that. 
> 
> If you caught my Peaky Blinders reference, I love you


	4. Barnes and Noble

Nearly eight months had passed since Steve and his Ma moved back into town and Steve and Bucky had added a few friends to their crew of two. 

Currently, Natasha Romanoff was sitting across from Steve and Bucky, heatedly arguing with Sam Wilson about which was worse, cafeteria hotdogs or anything Sam cooked. 

“I’m just saying,  _ anything  _ is a broad term. My box mac n’ cheese  _ cannot _ be worse than the hotdogs. I make a mean peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Cereal! I can do cereal.”

“But that’s not  _ cooking,  _ Wilson, that’s just combining raw ingredients.”

Steve, for one, would never argue with Natasha (he valued his life too much for that) but Sam and Nat bickered almost constantly. She turned towards Steve with a smile curling her bright red lips. “And what do you think? Cafeteria or Wilson?”

“I’m not...getting into this.” Steve pulled his sandwich from his lunch bag and took an overly large bite, avoiding looking at either of them. 

“James?” Nat was the only person who could get away with calling Bucky ‘James.’ Steve  _ probably _ could but found it strange to call Bucky by his full name; once Sam had called him James and the resulting fist fight ended in detention for both boys.  Sam and Bucky genuinely liked each other (at least as far as Steve could tell) but they hid it under constant snide remarks. 

Bucky just waved her away. “Ditto Steve. Leave me out of it.” Sam laughed, dark eyes crinkling at the corners. 

Suddenly remembering something, he sat up straight in his seat. “Oh yeah! Maria’s parents are out of town this weekend so she’s having a party. She said we’re all invited if we want to come.” 

Bucky eyed Steve, remembering the aftermath of the last party they’d gone to. Just enough liquid courage in each of them to admit their feelings for each other. Catching the look, Sam furrowed his brows. “What’s up with you two?”

“I bet Rogers doesn’t drink,” Nat chuckled. “Too righteous to do something illegal.”

“Actually,” Bucky cut in, leaning across the lunch table conspiratorially, “he does.”

“No!” Sam gasped, pretending to faint where he sat. Steve’s eyes rolled. 

“But seriously, he does, he’s just really bad at getting drunk.” 

“It’s not my fault,” Steve half-whined. “I don’t even know how much vodka it would take to make me any more than tipsy. Besides, you get drunk after two shots.”

Bucky shoved Steve with his shoulder. “That is a gross exaggeration, Stevie. It takes more than  _ two.” _

Now it was Nat’s turn to eye Sam. “Do you ever get tired of their dumbassery?”

Nodding, he made direct eye contact with Bucky. “I hate both of them with a burning passion.”

“Right back at ya, Wilson.”

“Oh, real clever. How’d you think that one up?”

“Oh you know, I drew on the lack of creativity that you just radiate.”

“At least I’m not a lightweight.”

“At least I can actually keep up with Steve when we run.”

“At least I’m not so codependent on another person that I even exercise with them.”

Steve let his head fall onto his crossed arms as Sam and Bucky’s arguing washed over him. 

-

Sam, Steve, Bucky, and Nat were all together once again, now in Sam’s living room. The lazy feel of the Friday afternoon had settled into their bones and they all lounged, barely saying five words between them. Steve and Bucky had planned to tell Natasha and Sam about their relationship that afternoon, but for now it seemed a sin to break the calm that lay over them. 

Sam’s mother bustled into the room right then, long skirt swishing around her legs. She was a short, plump woman, her skin just a shade darker than Sam’s, her curly hair always tied back in tight, thick braids to contain it. Her faint southern accent, never lost from her childhood in Georgia, added warmth to her voice as she asked, “would any of you like some snacks? I’ve got some apples I can cut up.”

Sam sighed. “Momma please, it’s alright. You don’t have to feed every person that comes through your door.”

Steve just smiled at her, all polite, boy-next-door charm. “I think we’re alright Mrs Wilson, but thank you.”

Placing her hands on her hips she stared down at her son. “That boy has all the manners I thought I raised you with. I offer people food because it’s  _ polite,  _ Samuel. Southern hospitality can extend as far north as we are right now.” Shaking her head and muttering, she bustled back out of the room. 

With the ice now broken, Steve shared a look with Bucky, clearing his throat. “So uhh, I guess we’ve got an announcement?” Sam and Nat watched him closely, Natasha leaning forward slightly in her armchair. “Bucky and I are dating.”

Nat snorted, Steve blinking in surprise at the reaction. “Tell us something we don’t know, Barnes and Noble.”

“Barnes and No-” Bucky spluttered, cheeks reddening while Sam sent Natasha a slight frown.

“We understand why this is a bigger deal than just who you’re dating. People aren’t always accepting.” 

Natasha nodded. “I’m sorry for making that joke, and I do understand.” Her gaze turned sharper. “If anyone gives you shit about that, I’m proficient in four different kinds of martial arts.”

Sam laughed weakly. “She’s kidding about the martial arts thing, right?” The three boys shared a look of concern while Nat just smirked, looking like the cat that caught the canary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m just going to post two chapters in a row since they’re both kind of short


	5. Up To You

Natasha was coming over before Maria’s party, at her own insistence. “I can’t trust you to dress yourself, Rogers. You have the fashion sense of my ninety year-old Russian grandfather.”

“Why does it matter so much what I wear, it’s just a party,” was apparently the wrong response to Natasha’s comment. 

“I’ll be there in five. And don’t worry, I’ll let myself in.” Hanging the phone back on its wall hook, Steve didn’t bother to unlock the front door. A puny little lock never stopped Natasha Romanoff. 

“Who was that on the phone?” Steve’s ma called from her bedroom. Steve moved to stand in the doorway. 

“Natasha. She’s coming over before we go out.”

Sarah leveled a stern look at Steve. “Go out?”

Face and ears flushing red, Steve buried his face in his hands. “Not like that, Ma. Natasha, Steve, Sam, Bucky n’ I are all goin’ out together.”

Peering at him for another moment, she decided he was telling the truth. “Well whatever you do, be safe.”

“Ma!”

“What, Steven? I meant generally safe, not just sexually.” Turning, Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the ceiling. 

“Bedridden and sick but I still manage to embarrass you, don’t I?” Steve didn’t turn back, just paused where he stood. “It’s my job, though. What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t?”

Steve knew she could see the back of his ears, still burning red. “Love you, Ma.” Returning to his room, Steve was only slightly startled to see Natasha perched on his bed.

“Why didn’t you tell me your mom was sick?” There was no hurt or anger in Natasha’s tone, only the blunt curiosity Steve had come to expect from her. 

Steve could feel the lump that swelled in his throat whenever he spoke about it. Talking  _ to  _ his Ma, she still had the same fire and life that she had always had, enough so that it was almost possible to ignore her thinning hair or bony frame. Talking  _ about  _ his Ma always highlighted those very things. It was hard to articulate these feelings, so instead Steve just shrugged. “Guess I got tired of talking about it.”

Natasha pursed her lips together like she could see more to the story but wasn’t saying so. Steve sat down next to Nat on his bed, the edge of the mattress sinking under his weight. “I don’t know whether or not I should tell her about Bucky and I.” He glanced furitvely at his closed door. “On one hand, he’s incredibly important to me and I want her to know but on the other hand… what if she reacts badly? What if she doesn’t approve of me dating another guy? She has so little time left and I don’t want to poison our last moments with something I could so easily keep away.”

Natasha sighed. “I can’t answer that question for you, Steve, I don’t know her like you do. You just have to really think about whether or not she might care that it’s a guy, or that it’s Bucky. But all it comes down to is which do you value most, complete honesty or happily keep secrets in your last memories of her.”

Steve drew his bottom lip into his between his teeth as he thought, mind whirling. 

“Whatever you decide to do, it  _ can _ wait until tomorrow.” Nat stood and pulled open Steve’s drawers, rummaging through with a shocking disrespect for the neat folding Steve had done. 

“Hey!”

“What? You need to get drunk and stop worrying for a few hours, the stress will kill you. I promised to help you find an outfit and I’ll make good on that promise.” 

When Steve didn’t answer, Natasha turned to face him with a serious expression. “Look, if you really don’t feel up to it you don’t have to go to the party. We can stay here or go to my place, watch bad TV and eat junk food, and we can even call Sam and Bucky to come over. But either way, I won’t leave you alone to stew in your thoughts.” 

Steve’s grin was crooked. “Thanks, Nat. Is it alright if we just stay in?”

Natasha’s red hair caught the light as she spun back around to semi-replace Steve’s clothes in the drawers. Turning back, she frowned slightly. Steve’s brow crinkled. “What is it?”

She gestured down at herself, the short jean skirt and tight crop top she wore. “I’m dressed for a party. Do you have anything more comfortable I could wear?”

Twenty minutes later Natasha was clad in Steve’s sweatpants and an old shirt (practically drowning in the clothes) and they were both settled down in Steve’s living room, Sam in an armchair across from them and Bucky on the phone.

“REBECCA, I SAID I WOU- I SWEAR I’LL TELL MOM IF YOU KEEP SAYING THAT!”

Clearing his throat, Bucky returned to the conversation. “Sorry Steve, Becca is driving me nuts. I’ll see what food I can find in the cabinets and be over in a few- YES IM STILL TALKING TO STEVE, BE QUIET -in a few minutes.”

Steve laughed low in his throat. “I’ll let you get back to your sisters. See you soon,you jerk.”

“See ya soon, punk.”


	6. (Not the) Worst Case Senario

Bucky felt Steve’s inhale, felt the slight shift in his jaw as he opened his mouth from where the blond’s head rested against his chest. It was a rare moment of total peace, curled together in Bucky’s bed while his mom and sisters were all out of the house. When Steve didn’t say anything, just continued tracing mindless patterns along Bucky’s skin with the pads of his fingers, Bucky frowned.  “What’s bothering you, Steve?” 

He received a non-committal hum in response. 

“Tell me when you feel like it, but don’t think too hard.” He settled back down, the feeling of Steve’s fingers lulling him almost to sleep before Steve spoke. 

“I’m thinkin’ of telling my Ma about us, if that’s okay with you.”

Bucky couldn’t help the involuntary leap in fear his heart did whenever ‘telling people’ was mentioned. He’d had faith that Sam and Nat wouldn’t give them trouble for it and he deeply suspected that Sarah Rogers wouldn’t either, but that fear was still there. More people knowing meant more people who might hurt Steve.

Steve picked his head up, regarding Bucky with deep blue eyes that were impossible to ignore. “Wha’dya thinking?”

Bucky met his eyes in a solemn gaze. “I think it’s your Ma and it’s your decision, Stevie. I can’t and won’t stop you. Knowing your Ma, this worst case scenario you’re scared of probably won’t happen.”

Setting his face in the stubborn expression Bucky knew too well, Steve huffed. “Who says I’m scared?”

“You can’t lie to me, Steve, I can see it in your eyes. Would you prefer I be there with you or no?”

Steve hung his head slightly, sitting up. “If you could come with…” he trailed off but Bucky nodded, trying to hide his own nerves as he gathered Steve against him. 

•

Today was clearly a worse day for Sarah, she hadn’t been out of bed yet and the food Steve had brought her was mostly untouched. Even so, when Steve nervously shuffled into her room with Bucky in tow, she smiled warmly at them, patting the edge of her mattress. 

“Hello, James,” she greeted him as he sat next to Steve, sitting on the foot of the bed facing Sarah.

“Hey, Mrs Rogers.”

“Call me Sarah,” she reprimanded, another step in their constant back and forth. She knew he’d never call her Sarah and he knew she’d always ask, a game they’d played since the first day Steve had brought him over. Her blue eyes, so like Steve’s, were so kind as she asked, “Now, what’s going on here?”

Steve glanced at Bucky who just shrugged as if to say, ‘this is all you.’ He reached out to grip his hand in a silent show of support, Sarah catching the gesture. 

“Ma, I want to tell you I’m- uh...I’m gay n’ Bucky n’ I are dating.” The words spilled out in a jumbled rush as Bucky squeezed his hand, feeling the slight shaking. 

Sarah only smiled sadly at them. “I know, Steve. Ever since you two were little I knew you had something truly special.” Now it was Bucky’s turn to blush as she turned her attention to him. “The way he’d talk about you. Every day when he got home from school he just had to share  _ something  _ you had done together. When I’d tuck him in at night he’d tell me one thing from school and one thing about you, every  _ single  _ night.”

Addressing both of them now, she continued. “I could see something special between you two and wasn’t sure if it would ever develop into anything beyond friendship, but I am ecstatic that you both have found someone to love you the way you deserve.”

Bucky was now trying his hardest not to cry, next to him Steve wiped the back of his hand over his face. Sniffling, he laughed a little bit. “Here I was, worried you wouldn’t take it well.”

“Well, I’m about to start taking it a lot worse if you don’t give me a hug right now. Both of you,” she added, gesturing to Bucky. 

The three of them stayed like that in an awkward hug for a few moments until Bucky pulled away. “Thank you for understanding.”

Sarah smiled at him the turned to her son. Steve, can I speak to Bucky for a minute?” Steve’s brow furrowed but he nodded, retreating from the room and gently pulling the door shut behind him.

Sarah turned to Bucky with damp cheeks. “I want to ask you a favor. I won’t be around much longer-” Bucky opened his mouth to argue but she held up a finger to stop him. “Really, James, I won’t. No nonsense, now. I’m sure this doesn’t need to be said but I want you to stick with Steve. When I can’t take care of him anymore, I want to know someone who loves him as much as I do is.”

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky murmured, subdued. 

“You take care of my boy, James Barnes, or I will haunt your ass.” Bucky gave a weak laugh. 

“If you haven’t noticed, he’s hard to take care of. He likes to get himself in trouble.” 

Sarah smiled, sharp-edged humor shining through in her eyes. “You better try your hardest, then.”

Sarah Rogers had been a second mother to Bucky. She had fed him, bandaged his scraped knees, stitched up his split chin, and loved him like her own son, even as he had his own mother to do much of the same. Now, he pressed a kiss to her cheek and saluted her, grinning, before slipping from the room. At Steve’s inquisitive look Bucky just shrugged, Steve not bothering to press the issue. 

•

“Buck, what are we doing here?” 

Steve hadn’t complained as Bucky practically dragged him to his own apartment, nearly busting down the door. 

“I thought that, in the spirit of honesty, I could tell my mom about us.” Steve’s jaw went slack. 

“Buck, you don’t have to.”

Bucky shifted from foot to foot. Telling Sarah had made him crave the same sense of honesty, even if churning nerves in his stomach warned that Winifred Barnes might not be as kind as Sarah had been. He told Steve as much but without voicing his concerns for fear that Steve would refuse. He could practically hear his voice in his head, ‘I won’t tell her if it puts you in a bad situation with your Ma.’

That was how they found themselves seated across the dining room table from Bucky’s mom, whose lips were pressed in a thin, white line and whose gaze was flicking between them like she was seeing them for the first time. 

“I’m not sure I like the idea of you dating other men, James.” Bucky’s jaw set, his eyes straight ahead as he willed her words to not hurt. Steve’s thigh pressed against his own where they sat close together, letting him know he was there for him. 

His mom continued, mostly ignoring Steve’s presence as she spoke to Bucky. “I won’t try to change your mind about this, I know it’s not something you decided to be. I am glad, that even if you will date a man, it’s Steve. At least I know you’re as happy as you can be and that you won’t get your heart broken.” Clearly having said her piece, she stood and returned to the living room. 

Bucky’s jaw worked as he fought to keep the tears from sliding down his face. Steve’s hand rested on his cheek as he turned Bucky to face him. “That wasn’t the worst case scenario,” he said with a small, crooked, smile.

Holding hands and pressed shoulder to shoulder they made their way to Bucky’s room, Steve shutting the door softly. With the door closed, Steve pressed his lips to Bucky’s in a gentle kiss, pulling away just far enough to meet his eyes. “This changes very little, you know that, right?”

Before Bucky could formulate words from the maelstrom whirling in his mind, a knock sounded loudly on the door. Both boys jumped at the sound. Opening the door a crack, Bucky saw Becca standing there, arms crossed as she leaned against his doorframe. “So you’re gay,” she stated, lips tilting into a tiny smile. 

Bucky snarled, resisting the urge to slam the door in her face. “Not right now, Becca.” As he moved to close it her hand caught on the door, forcing it open. 

Her gaze intensified. “What did mom say to you?”

Growling in frustration, Bucky tried to shut the door again, muttering, “if you really were eavesdropping you must have heard.”

Becca’s foot caught the door and she placed her body in the way so Bucky couldn’t close it. “I only heard a little of what you said. What. Did. Mom. Say.”

“She said she disapproves of Bucky dating men but is okay with it since at least it’s me he’s dating.” 

Bucky sent Steve a betrayed glare but Steve just lifted one shoulder, receiving an affirming nod from Becca. “Thanks, Steve,” she chirped, before abruptly turning on her heel. 

Bucky barely had time to wonder what that was all about before easily audible raised voices came from the living room. The exact words were unintelligible but the tone was crystal clear — anger. 

Bucky knew Steve had a bad ear and couldn’t hear as well as him; he just mouthed, “they’re arguing,” as a translation for Steve. 

Minutes later Becca returned to Bucky’s room. “I yelled at mom for being so stupid about it.”

“Becca-”

“What? She needed to hear it. She asked if I only cared because I was a lesbian so I told her yes.”

Bucky could feel a headache coming on. “You shouldn’t have put yourself out of her good graces like that. I swear, between you and Steve…”

Steve had the gall to look mildly offended at that, while Becca just shook her head. “I told her I was kidding a second later but  _ Jesus  _ you should have seen her face. Why didn’t you put up a fight?”

“Because, one wrong word and she decides she’s not going to put up with her faggot son and really, who would blame her? Certainly not half this god damn town.”

Becca looked pained, body language tense. Steve must have sent her a clear look because she left without another word. “Bucky, look at me. I know your mother wouldn’t kick you out of the house. She would never leave you on your own so completely.”

Bucky just heaved a sigh, flopping back onto his bed where this whole sorry chapter of coming out had started. Steve seemed to have the same thought. “I’m sorry if I should never have brought anything up.”

“No, no, it’s not your fault. And you’re right, I don’t think she really would kick me out.”

Worry was written into every line of Steve’s body as he gazed down at Bucky, who just motioned for Steve to lay down next to him. Bucky wasn’t going to pretend that his mother’s dismissal didn’t hurt, but he still had Steve, he still had his sister, and in the end, although their relationship would certainly be strained, he still had his mom. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is nearly 2k words that I just typed out in one sitting.  
> I am: dead
> 
> There will probably be only two or three more chapters to this.
> 
> Thank you to everyone for your continued support with Kudos and comments, I really appreciate it <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry in advance for this chapter

The kitchen door opened with the usual lethal velocity it was wont to have, rattling the plates stacked on the counter behind it. His eyes landing on Steve, the restaurant manager made his way over, leaning in to murmur something in Steve’s ear. Bucky watched with curiosity that soon turned to concern when the pan slipped from Steve’s hands back into the soapy water. All but flinging off his apron, Steve fled the kitchen. His knife clattering on the counter where he dropped it, Bucky moved to race after Steve. He was halted by a hand closing on the ties of his apron. 

Whirling on the manager Shaun, Bucky knew he looked frantic. “What happened? What did you tell him?”

Shaun shrugged, looking only slightly apologetic. “It’s a phone call for him but it’s personal, Bucky, I can’t just tell you.”

Bucky resisted the urge to yank at his hair. “You know that I know him better n’ he knows himself. We don’t have secrets.” Shaun looked a little more apologetic now but still didn’t respond. “Just tell me this… was it about his Ma?”

At the dip of Shaun’s head Bucky bolted from the kitchen, making a beeline for the manager’s office. He nearly tore the door off its hinges opening it to find Steve standing with the phone in one hand, knuckles white as he gripped the desk edge with his other. “That was Ma’s nurse. She’s dead, Buck.” Steve’s voice broke. 

The phone line was ringing with the noise that indicated nobody was on the other end so Bucky gently pried it from Steve’s hand, replacing it in the cradle on the wall. Steve looked unsteady on his feet so Bucky guided him into the desk chair, crouching so they were still on level with each other. His hand went to the back of Steve’s neck, comforting, as Steve clutched at Bucky’s shoulders. They stayed like that for several moments, Steve’s breathing labored as he struggled to hold back tears.

When Shaun peered around the corner of the office and motioned to Bucky he pulled himself out of Steve’s grip slowly. “I’ll be right back, alright?” Not expecting a response, Bucky slipped out of the office and closed the door softly behind him. “Look, Shaun, I can come back but can I just punch out and take him home? It’ll only be like twenty minutes and I-”

“Bucky, it’s fine. Punch out, take him home, and only come back if he’s going to be alright. We can manage without you two for the rest of tonight.” 

Bucky felt his heart drop in relief. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

Shaun shook his head. “Just go. I’m more worried about Steve than I am about being down a couple of dishwashers. Keep an eye on your boyfriend.”

Bucky opened his mouth to protest. “He’s not my-”

Shaking his head, Shaun turned back to the kitchen, leaving Bucky blinking in surprise outside the office. Opening the door with considerably more care than before he found Steve still in the chair. He hauled a shell-shocked Steve out of the restaurant, ignoring the server who called out after them as they left. 

Steve had driven them both here. Reaching into Steve’s pockets with little shame he finally unearthed the car keys to Steve’s old truck, piling Steve into the passenger seat before climbing into the driver’s seat to wrestle with the stubborn ignition for a minute. 

They were nearly halfway home when Steve seemed to break out of his stupor, taking in huge gulps of air as his entire body shook with sobs. Bucky pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the engine, scrambling from the truck. He met Steve on the other side where he’d half-fallen from his seat, now leaning against the cold metal of the truck as his breath clouded in the frigid Kansas winter air.

“You okay?” The first words Bucky’s said to Steve since he got the phone call and they’re the dumbest fucking words he could have  _ possibly _ said. Mentally kicking himself, he revised his question. “You want to go home or nah?”

Even as his heart ached, both for Sarah and Steve, he took a deep breath and pushed down the lump in his throat. His tears would do Steve no good. Steve’s voice was rough and sandpaper. “The nurse probably called the hospital by now and got her to the morgue. There’s not really anything at home I need to see.” The unspoken words hung in the night between them. Nothing at home he  _ could bear to  _ see. 

“My place, then. My mom and sisters are out late so we’ll be alone.” 

Before, the prospect of an empty apartment would have been tantalizing. Now, it was a mercy. At the Barnes’ kitchen table, the lights on their lowest setting, Bucky set about slicing an apple, more for something to do than out of hunger. The silence stretched between them for ages until Bucky finally broke it. “Do you know what you’ll do now?”

“I’m not eighteen but Ma and I signed papers that essentially emancipate me in the event of her-” Steve’s words choked off but Bucky nodded to let him know he understood. “Basically, even though I’m not eighteen yet, I don’t have to go into the foster system for the few months until I am.” Feeling like his knees might give from relief that Steve wouldn’t be dragged away, Bucky pulled out a chair and sat himself down. The silence once again stretched seconds into hours as they both stared at their hands, resting only inches apart. Steve was no longer crying but his eyes were bloodshot and his mouth was settled in a tense line. 

Brushing his thumb against the corner of Steve’s mouth, Bucky leaned across the table and followed the motion with his lips, the barest hint of a kiss. The apple still uneaten on a plate, Bucky sent Steve into his room, scribbling a note for his mom whenever she got home. 

 

_ Mom, _

_ Sarah’s died. Steve is over here. We’re in my room.  _

_ Don’t wake us in the morning. _

_ -B _

Following Steve into his room he found him asleep over the covers, his feet dangling off the end of the bed and his shoes laying sideways like he’d toed them off then promptly collapsed. Bucky wrangled the blankets out from under Steve, slipping underneath after tucking them around Steve. Brushing Steve’s blond hair from his eyes, Bucky pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, salty from tears. In the dark, barely lit by the streetlight outside, Bucky finally allowed a tear to slip down his nose, mourning his second mother even as he comforted her first son. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter won’t be happy but it definitely won’t be this angsty. 
> 
> This was honestly hard to write, and I’m sorry it took so long. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone for continued support, I appreciate your kudos and comments (Ik I often don’t reply to comments and that’s mostly bc im too awkward to know exactly what to say)

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry to leave y’all with some angst there at the end, I’ll try to get the next chapter up soon-ish
> 
> I’m splitting this into multiple chapters because I’m lazy and this will take me forever to write. It was supposed to only be a 1k Drabble...oops.


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